Homework Help
by Sirenix Prime
Summary: Symphonic is Jazz and Prowl's sparkling. Since she is too young to go into battle, her days are spent going to school and learning from her oppi, Prowl. Right now though, she needs help with her vocabulary from her History class. With her caretakers busy, let's see how the others can help her...


**A/N: Hey guys! No, I'm not dead, my excuse for not updating in a while is school...need I say more? Anywho, this story literally was only meant to be a short story I had to write for my US History class. I has to underline all the vocabulary words I used. I figured since I based my story on Transformers I might as well post dis slag. I promise I am working on my other story!** **Btw, sorry if Optimus isn't acting like himself...I decided to remove the pole stuck up his aft, oh wait, that's Prowl. Never mind, I decided to make Optimus less formal except for the end.** **I'm going to have where Optimus acts all formal in front of the humans. With his fellow autobots he's more relaxed. Now, enough of me explaining boring yet informative slag! ON WARDS!**

 **Sideswipe: O.o...okay, what are you on and can I have some?**

 **Sunstreaker: *whacks sides upside the helm***

 **Me: My secrete and no you can't have any** ** _!_**

 _Rrriiinnnggg!_ "Yes! Finally!" I ran out the classroom door and headed to my locker. I collected my books and hurried out to the car rider line. I stopped, looking for my ride when I heard a honk. Looking over to my left, I saw a silver Pontiac Solstice flash its headlights and open the passenger side door. Grinning, I ran over to it and got in, ignoring the looks other people gave me. The seatbelt automatically slide over me and clicked into place. The engine gave a powerful rev before maneuvering out of the parking lot.

The ride was silent, before a voice spoke from the radio. "So, how waz school mah sparkling?" I groaned. "Horrible. Do you have any idea how much homework I have?!" "Aw come on, it can' be _tha_ bad." I huffed. "I have to study for four tests, do vocabulary homework for History, AND I still have to do a book report that's do next Monday!" "Well, ah have ta fill out reports, go on patrol, an' attend a meetin' wit tha human government." The voice retorted.

"Why do I have to go to school?! We are at war. Besides, oppi can just teach me." I whined. "Well, Prowler is pretty busy dealin' wit tha human government. 'Sides, you're too young ta be involved with war, even by Cybertronian standards." The voice replied. I sighed and reached back to the backseat. Might as well work on my homework on the way to base.

Guess I should introduce myself. My designation is Symphonic. I'm the sparkling to Jazz and Prowl. We are autonomous robotic organisms from Cybertron. The reason why we're here on this mud ball and not our home planet is because of the civil war going on. I was sparked just a few years after Megatron declared war. Megatron is the leader of the decepticons, the faction that tried to bring 'peace' to our planet. Didn't end so well. My caretakers are autobots, the faction that tried to stop the decepticons.

Many millennia later, here we are still fighting that war. I want to become a soldier and help fight the decepticons, but Everybot keeps telling me I'm too young. They said I'd get my faction symbol and join their ranks after I've completed training and turn at least 18,000 human years old. 18 in human years. I'm only 13,000 human years old, the equivalent to a 13 year old human. Right now, my cycles are being spent going to human school learning about Earth while also learning about Cybertron.

I snap out of my thoughts as the base comes into view. The humans call it 'Hoover Dam', what a strange name for a wall of concrete. Sire turns onto the road that leads to the back of the base, where none of the humans could see. A section of the wall slides up and we drive in. The passenger side door opens and I climb out, grabbing all of my belongings. I step back as sire begins his transformation process. The Pontiac Solstice breaks apart, gears, metal, and other parts shifting into place as sire stands and stretches.

His bi-pedal form is silver, just like the vehicle's paintjob. The front of the car makes up his chassis. That's pretty much the only recognizable part of the Earth based vehicle. A black visor covers his optics. Sire looks down at me. "Ya gonna stay in your pretender form?" I nod my head. "Yeah. I'm going to go to the rec room to work on my homework." He nodded. "Alrigh', jus' try not ta get stepped on shorty." He began to walk off to Primus knows where.

I huffed and started to walk towards the rec room. When I got there, I saw several bots and humans there. The terror twins, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, were on the Cybertronian sized couch playing what the humans call an X-box. Ever since the alliance was made between the autobots and humans adjustments were made to help deal with the size difference. I mean, the humans barely reach our ankles. Even I, who's shorter than my sire who happens to be the shortest autobot, tower over the humans. They only come up to my mid-calf plating.

I shook my helm as they screamed at the TV. I guessed they got they weren't able to beat my high score. They have been trying to out play me in a game called Halo. I believe I still hold the record. Other than them, Ironhide, Arcee, and surprisingly Optimus Prime and Elita were here. Ironhide, our weapons specialist, was over at a table talking to Arcee, who was one of the autobot soldiers and sister to Elita and Chromia.

Optimus and Elita were over at their own table in the corner of the room. Optimus, or Optimus Prime, is the leader of the autobots. His sparkmate, or wife in human terms, is Elita-one. Elita used to be the commander of the Valkyries, the femmen division of the autobot forces. Sadly, near the beginning of the war most of the femmens and all sparklings were terminated.

Elita must have saw me, or her scanners must have picked up my energon signal, because she looked over at my direction and beckoned me over. Once I reached her and Optimus' table she bent down and lifted me onto the table. "Hello Optimus and Elita." "Hello youngling." They each replied. "Symphonic, why are you in your pretender form?" Elita asked. I shrugged. "It's easier to do my homework in this form. Transforming into my bi-pedal form, then alt-mod and activating my holoform takes too much work."

"Sounds to me like you're just too lazy" Optimus said, smirking. "Am not." I said. I sat down and prepared to start on my homework. "Uh, if ya don't mind and ya have a klick ta spare could ya help meh?" I asked, taking out a sheet of paper. "You mean me" Elita corrected. "Aww come one! Ah'm Jazz's sparkling! Ah can't help it if ah picked up part of his accent!" I said. "Yes you can. You don't speak that way at school" Optimus said. "Ugh, fine. I won't talk like that for now."

"So, what's the matter?" Elita asked. "Well, I have to write a story using half of the vocabulary words from History. I was thinking about writing about Cybertron, but I was sparked near the beginning of the war. I don't recall anything about it." I handed them a list of my vocabulary words, the ones I intended to use were circled. Elita took it and held it in front of her and Optimus.

I watched as the gears in their optics shifted so they could read the tiny words on the paper. "Hmmm", Elita set the paper down and looked to her mate. "Well, for this one", Optimus pointed to one of the words, "You can write about Lockdown." "Yeah, but he's more of a decepticon bounty hunter than a mercenary." "True" Elita said. "But, technically he is a neutral. Since he has not aligned himself to any faction yet and does not bear any symbol."

I thought about it. From what I knew of him, Lockdown is a famous bounty hunter. There are rumors that he steals the sparks of bots and sells them to be reformatted into a completely new bot. I knew that our race had no way of reproducing, with femmens scarce and the Allspark destroyed, but that was just cruel! I wrote it down anyway, I mean I need SOMETHING to write about.

"For the word repeal, I was thinking about writing the trial between Megatron and the High council. If memory serves, Megatron tried to get the High council to repeal their decision to make him a prime." Seeing Optimus' pained look, Elita said "Perhaps not that example." Realizing what I had said I scrambled to cover up my mistake. "OH! Of course, I...I apologize Optimus. I was just thinking." Optimus waved my apology away. "Don't worry, it's alright. You may write about it if you wish." "Thank you. I don't mean to bring up bad memory files, but that is the only trial I know of..." I trailed off. We sat in silence. I didn't mean to bring it up. Primus, I am such an idiot!

I _knew_ that Optimus and Megatron were best friends before the war started. Their brotherly bond started to go, as the humans would say, downhill after the High Council refused Megatron's proposition to make him the next prime. Instead, they made Optimus a prime and that's when jealousy set in.

"Are there any other cases I can write other than that?" I asked. Optimus thought on it. "Not that I know of. You may wish to ask your oppi, Prowl. I am sure he has many data pads full of information. If not, then you could always go to the library he is currently making. It is alright to use that example though young one." Hesitantly, I wrote it down. On the side though, I wrote in small print ' _research human trial_ '.

"I am afraid I must take my leave" Elita said, standing up. "I have matters to attend to. But, if you need help I am sure Ratchet can be of assistance." Optimus stood up as well. "I believe it is time for me to return to my office as well. I have yet to prepare for the meeting with the human government." I couldn't help but giggle at the expression he made. Nobot liked to deal with the human government.

If you asked me, they had a pushy "Greater than thou" personality. Sadly though, nobot never asks me. After Optimus set me down onto the ground he and Elita exited the rec room. I stood there, stuff in hand, contemplating on who to go to for help next. I should go to one of the humans for help, but I wanted to test my knowledge about Cybertron. Besides, I'm learning more about my home this way and in a way I am also preserving its memory.

Pushing those cheesy thoughts from my mind, I decided to take the risk and visit the Med Bay. As soon as the doors slid open a Cybertronian sized wrench came sailing towards me. I dived out the way, barely missing it. "IF YOU AREN'T BLEEDING OUT OR DYING GET OUT!" A voice shouted. "Love ya too Ratchet" I muttered, gathering my stuff. The medical bay, or med bay for short, was huge. It had to be so Ratchet had enough room to treat the others.

Finally, after quite a bit of walking on my part, I found Ratchet. He was a lime green autobot with a Hummer 2 Rescue vehicle. Fitting, since he is the Chief Medical Officer. Ratchet looked down at me and asked gruffly. "What do you want youngling, I'm busy." I rolled my eyes. "Well, I need help with my homework." "Well I'm busy. Go ask somebot else." I raised an eyebrow. "What crawled up your tailpipe and died?" I tensed as he growled and reached for another wrench. Instead, he just sighed and rubbed his nasal ridge.

"Fine, what do you need?" Deciding to get straight to the point I pulled out my paper. "Do you remember anytime Cybertron had a blockade or boycott of any sort?" He snorted. "Of course I do. During the Great Exodus many autobots, decepticons, and neutrals alike tried to flee the planet. The decepticons often set up ambushes in hopes of capturing any escaping bots. If they were neutrals, they were forced to join their cause or they were offlined. Autobots...well, I think you have an idea of what happened to them." I shivered.

I knew alright, and I pray to Primus that I never get in that situation. Captured autobots were often tortured for information, then once that information is obtained they were handed over to either Shockwave or Scalpel for experiments. Once the bot finally offlined, their frame was used for spare parts.

"Okay, what about boycotts?" I asked. Ratchet's optics dimmed, I assumed he was searching for the definition of the word. His optics returned to their usual brightness and he looked down at me. "Actually, I don't think Cybertron ever had one of those. At least, not during the Golden age. There were obviously none during the war. Neither faction could afford to limit their resources on a _grudge_. There may been some, but none that I know of during my life cycle."

I nodded and wrote it down. Then, I smirked. "Really? Wow, then there must have never been any boycotts considering you're older than-" I abruptly shut up as I saw Ratchet's optics narrow and he gripped a wrench. "Finish that sentence youngling", he growled. I gulped, that may not have been the wisest of things to say. "Thanks Ratchet, bye!" I shot out of there faster than Blurr. As soon as the door closed behind me I heard two loud clangs and the door suddenly had two fresh dents in it.

Not wanting my helm to be next, I made a bee-line towards the closest autobot room. Said room happened to be the indoor shooting range, where the autobot weapons specialist was busy laying some hate on the poor targets. I stood there, watching as he obliterated each and every target, whistling in admiration and jealously. My aim wasn't nearly as good as that. I only managed to _hit_ the target 5 out of 10 times, don't even ask me about bulls-eyes.

When the bot was done, I decided to make my presence known. "Um, can you help me with something Ironhide?" The bot turned whirled around, aiming his enormous cannons at me. "Whoa! I may be annoying but I'm pretty sure Jazz and Prowl wish to keep me functioning!" I said, raising my hands in the air. Ironhide snorted and retracted his cannons. Ironhide had a black paintjob and his alt mode happened to be a GMC Topkick C4500.

"What'd ya need short stuff." I frowned. Curse my sire and his lack of height. I had, unfortunately, inherited his shortness while I got oppi's door wings. "I need help." I said reaching for my stuff. "It's too late to help you youngling. You, or more specifically your aim, is too far gone." He said, shaking his helm. "Ha ha" I said dryly. "I'll have you know that my aim has improved. Anyway, I need help with this." I handed him the vocabulary paper.

'Hide took it and studied it. "Hmmm, well militia shouldn't be too hard. Just write about the autobots." I frowned. "You do know that militia is an organized group of armed _volunteers_ , right?" I asked. "Yeah, what's the problem?" He asked. I face palmed. "Ironhide, most of the bots were forced to choose a faction. Most didn't volunteer, it was whichever faction got to them first." I pointed out.

Ironhide huffed. "Last I checked femmen, 'most' didn't mean 'every'. Not all of the bots were forced to join a faction. I willingly chose the autobot side, as did Prowl, Jazz, Ratchet, and many others." "Oh...I guess you're right. Sorry." I hastily wrote what he said down as he looked back at the paper.

"As for the term 'minuteman', well everybot became one of thoses fairly quickly. Especially as the air strikes and raids began. Mechs had to protect their family units, and by raising their blasters against the attackers they were seen as enemies and shot down by the decepticons. Everybot learned how to defend themselves, even younglings." I nodded, and silently wrote it down.

"Well, that's all I can tell ya youngling. Ask Prowl or some other bot for the last one." He said, handing me my paper back. He stood and stretched, joints creaking from crouching for a long period of time. I cracked a grin as I heard the sound of his gears grinding against each other. I opened my mouth to comment on it, but was interrupted by Ironhide. "Say any wise remarks about my age or creaky joints, and you'll end up being the next thing I aim at. Youngling or not." I gulped and nodded, quickly gathering my junk-I mean things and scurrying out of the firing range.

I began to head to the quarters sire, oppi, and I share. I punched in the code and the door slid open. Our room was nothing special. It was a standard, well standard for us, size room. It had two berths and a desk in the corner along with a giant mini Cybertronian sized cooler.

The desk was oppi's, since he tended to work late into the night. Sire has to literally drag him out of his office and into our quarters to recharge and refuel. The cooler has a lockpad on it, one that I can't open. It contains sire and oppi's high grade stash. I'm not allowed in for obvious reasons. I'm too young to drink. However, since both sire and oppi are so busy they hardly have time to drink it anyway. I rarely saw them overcharged. As for the berths, one was larger than the other. The large one belonged to sire and oppi. I used to recharge with them, I still do sometimes, but I'm a grown femmen now. I can't recharge with my caretakers forever.

I walked over and climbed up to my berth. I installed a metal ladder so I could get up and down in both forms. I had an idea about what I wanted to do for the last word. I wanted to write about how the leaders of Praxus had to cede the city, oppi's home city. I'm not sure where sire was from, he never told me. I'll just write about the fall of Iacon, since that's where he met Optimus and joined the autobots. Technically, Iacon was never ceded. Iacon was one of the last cities to fall to the decepticons. Long story short, nothing was left standing.

I took out a writing stylus, the humans here call them pencils, and fresh sheet of paper. Just as the tip of the pencil touched the paper, my processor went blank. I blinked rapidly, trying to think of _something_ to write! I slammed my helm onto the surface of the berth. Nothing. Not even one inkling of a story plot creeped into my now aching processor.

After laying there for a few klicks, my stupid processor finally decided to work! I shot up and frantically searched for my pencil. I quickly began to write. Why didn't I think of doing this before?! It would have saved me time and the processor ache.

A breem and a half later I was done. I set my pencil down and stretched. I picked up my paper and began to proof read it. " _Rrriiinnnggg! "Yes! Finally!" I ran out the classroom door and headed to my locker. I collected my books and hurried out to the car rider line_ "

 **A/N : Hope y'all liked it! For those of y'all that are new to the franchise, I welcome you to the dark side. We don't have cookies, but we have something better...BADAFT HIGHLY WEAPONIZED CYBERTRONIANS! The cybertronian lingo is below, study well my young padawans for I will corrupt you. You will learn the ways of Cybertron!**

 **Glossary**

Sparked – Born or created

Sparkling – baby

Oppi – formal term for father

Sire – casual term for father

Cycles – days

Chassis – chest

Optics – eyes

Primus – Cybertronian deity

Helm – head

Femmen – female

Energon – life blood of all Cybertronians

Energon signal – every Cybertronian has a differ one unique to them, it allows others to identify who you are

Youngling – child

Bi-pedal form – robot form

Alt-mode – car form

Holoform – human projection

Klick – human equivalent to a minute

Spark – similar to a human soul

Prime – Highest and most respected title on Cybertron

Data pad- book

Berths – bed

Recharge – sleep

Refuel – eat

High grade – similar to human alcoholic beverage

Overcharged – Cybertronian equivalent to drunk

Breem - hour


End file.
